


The Other Side

by TheOtherAdler



Series: The Other Side [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (But happy for WHO?), Abuse, Abusive Relationships, BDSM, Beating, Blood, Bondage, Caning, Darcy - Freeform, Dark!Thor, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Loki - Freeform, Loki not being a complete asshole, Name-Calling, Rough Sex, Smut, Thor - Freeform, Whipping, dubcon, noncon, submissive!Darcy, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherAdler/pseuds/TheOtherAdler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>!!Read at your own risk, please check tags and summaries and trigger warnings at the start of each chapter!!</p><p>Since everything we know about Asgard comes from Thor... who's to say he's been telling the entire truth?</p><p>Features: Explicit scenes of bdsm done badly (as what later becomes abuse, rape, and what I would tentatively define as borderline torture) Thor as closet sadist/abuser, Darcy as masochist/victim, cheating on Jane, and eventually an unlikely hero.</p><p>As more of the past is revealed, we see a new side to Thor (definitely dark!Thor), and a new side to Loki as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The start is at the middle (ch 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very rough S/m scene between Darcy and Thor. Their relationships has been ongoing, an she's only just beginning to have doubts.
> 
> WARNINGS: Violence, bondage, and rough anal sex in a BDSM framework. A lack of safeword and very little concern for the "submissive," Also mention of cheating (on Jane).

Darcy wasn't sure how much more she could take. Bound spread-eagled and face down on the bed with snug, soft scarves around her wrists and ankles, she could feel the sweat pouring in wide droplets over her skin to soak the bedding below and wondered--as the belt came whistling down again across her shoulders, causing her to thrash and howl--whether she'd be punished for drenching the bedclothes as well, and if so, exactly what form it might take. A butt-plug strapped in place as she hand-washed the sheets? Maybe paired with her least favorite--a set of harsh tweezers clamps crushing her nipples as she worked. She shuddered at the thought, half-fearing, half-craving the things he might do to her. A feeling she'd grown used to, and even come to secretly love.

Another sharp _crack_ split the air and she could hear the tears in her voice, now, feel the sting of them in her eyes as her head tossed wildly, chestnut-brown curls further obscuring her bleary vision. "Thirty!" she cried, imagining the wide bruises from each stroke painting her skin from the backs of her trembling thighs to the cream-colored skin of her shoulders. " _Thor-- Master-- **please**!_ " she wailed, quiet sobs muffled by the pillow. 

In the many months before, she'd only ever seen glimpses of his dark side, here and there in flashes like the lightning he wielded, a peek in moments of anger or frustration that drew her to him against all reason, that hidden rage pairing so perfectly with the brutal lust he'd shown during their first violent couplings--always when Jane was away, always when there was no chance of discovery. 

He'd left bruises then, too--broad, purpling hand prints on her breasts , her ass, and later on her throat, arms... Nearly every inch of her had now been mauled and marked at one point or another. 

The guilt then had torn at her just as the stinging leather had done tonight, but inevitably she came back to him, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, whispered pleas for more of what she needed: those powerful hands twisting in her hair as he fucked her, or wrapping easily around her throat until she gasped and struggled. The abuse that no one else could offer, always underscored by the very real danger that he might go too far, crushing the life from her with his bare hands if he chose to. 

The thin strap dangled from his hand, still and silent for now while her wide, stiff nipples throbbed in time with her clit as she drew each shuddering breath in speechless fear, never knowing what to expect once his anger was spent or what further torments he might have in store for her. Turning, she watched him kick off his simple, heavy boots and slide out of his jeans, sweat soaking his broad chest and muscular arms as his eyes lifted to meet hers, their rich blue depths hard, corners crinkled to match the fierce, nasty smile on his face. She'd long since learned that he enjoyed marking her, bringing her to the point of tears and desperate pleas for mercy, so the straining bulge in his briefs came as no surprise to her at all. Darcy watched in fascination as he freed it--the length standing proud and hard, as large as one might expect from a god, particularly in its current state of throbbing arousal. 

Every inch of him was as flawlessly chiseled as something made of stone except for his rough, warrior's hands and tousled mane of golden hair. He ran a hand through it roughly as he studied her, free hand lowering to stroke his cock as the other reached for the round-edged bottle of lube.

Lifting in protest, her eyes still tracking every supple gesture, every fascinating ripple of muscle as he turned again to face her, she whimpered and struggled against the scarves that held her securely bound. "No... Please... No..." She was still struggling as he joined her on the bed, kneeling behind her to spread the chill slickness first over his length and then between her cheeks as she gasped in shock. They had done this before, and always, always it brought a sense of deep and shameful pain, of helpless vulnerability and violation, but she was bound too securely to escape or fight it and could only rest her burning face against the pillow and endure.

His bare fingers prodded her cunt with a low ripple of laughter. She was soaked with arousal and knew it; had felt the wetness seep out to dampen the sheets just as her sweat had done. "Eager little slut," he teased, his voice a tantalizing rumble behind her. " _My_ eager little slut." Forcing a pillow beneath her hips, he guided himself to the narrow entrance between her rounded cheeks, moving slowly as Darcy gasped for air, the pain stealing her breath as she gradually, very gradually adjusted to his width. 

Shame flooded her as he paused, cock buried snugly in her ass until the awful, straining discomfort gave way to something else, something that forced her to tug against the bonds and writhe helplessly beneath him, something that she was far too ashamed to acknowledge as pleasure, though that was exactly what it was.

The pain returned with a shock as he started to move, thrusting inside that slick, tender space almost gently until she gave a shuddering half-moan of confusion. Then he moved faster, hands gripping her hips with bruising strength as he jerked her back harder, that relentless length driving deeper on every thrust until her entire body shook, heavy breasts crushed against sheets that scraped harshly against her aching nipples.

She'd have given anything to have just one hand free, to strum the throbbing bud between her legs and ease the pounding pain of his rollicking hips, but knew that he would leave them tied there, touching her himself eventually, but only at his whim. Again, her head tossed against the pillow, soft, pleading words spilling in a desperate torrent from her full, tempting lips, but they went unheeded as his hips snapped harder against her rear, faster... Then slower as he stretched his body across hers, the sweat of his skin setting every welt ablaze with raw, stinging pain as his arms extended easily to close around her wrists.

"Poor Darcy," he cooed, "All that's needed is the slightest little touch, aye? Just a stroke or two of my fingers to make the pain stop..."

She could feel the quick rise and fall of his chest against her back and wondered if it was silent laughter she felt as he thrust again harder, pace quickening until the ache inside her and the slap of skin against skin consumed her awareness.

"Oh, my god..." she whispered as his panting breaths stirred her dark curls. "Thor... _Please... _"__

__With a soft, soothing "shh," his arm curled around her waist, slipping lower to brush the slick folds with surprising gentleness before he found the rigid nub of her clit, flicking it playfully at first before stroking in quick, familiar circles that made her breath hitch in pleasure and relief, her ass rising to meet his steady lunges as all the discomfort, even the biting ache across her back, simply melted away._ _

__He grunted softly behind her as she lifted to take his length, the rounded smoothness of her ass nearly cradling his every push as she tightened around him, small body quivering beneath his._ _

__"Thank you... Oh god, thank you..." she groaned, hovering on the brink and waiting for him as the circular press of his fingers roughened, interspersed with hard flicks and squeezes that she parted her legs further to welcome._ _

__Thor couldn't even remember now what minor infraction he'd been punishing her for. It was never more than a pretense anyway and they both knew it; an excuse to watch her delicious curves buck and writhe under the belt, to feel her ass grip tighter around him until he hissed and buried his face in her dark, sweat-dampened hair. His fingers circled faster as he delighted in the feel of that tiny bead, naked and sweet and throbbing in time with her pulse as he crushed it harder, enjoying the half-pained cries that burst from her lips as he did._ _

__A shudder rolled through him as he drove harder into her, voice low and husky against the delicate whorl of her ear. "Come for me," he ordered breathlessly. "Let me feel you give in."_ _

__Darcy's back arched violently against his chest as he squeezed and worked the dainty nub beneath his fingers, her every limb quivering as the pleasure tore through her, pulling him with it as the tight, gripping rhythm around his cock sent a long, sweet thrill through his balls and up the shaft until he gasped in shock, moving with her rocking hips until rapture exploded through him, radiating through every muscle in rippling, endless waves. He continued to strum her sensitized clit until she whimpered into the pillow, slowly easing out of her again before he stopped--and still she ground against him, riding the final waves until only gasping breaths remained._ _

__"My Darcy," he whispered. "My Midgardian plaything. No matter what I do to you, you still come crawling back for more." There was rich amusement in the god's tone as he reached to untie her wrists, and she could only shudder in acknowledgment, knowing that every word he'd said was absolutely true._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Darcy tries to break things off.


	2. What's his is his (ch 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before she can further lose her mind, Darcy tries to break things off with Thor--and things do not go as she'd expected.
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING: What I would consider rape, though the lines are blurred and there's some pleasure in the mix***

It was barely a week later that she finally summoned her nerve. The lingering bruises along her back were a deep yellow now; she knew this because she eyed them in the mirror every morning, hair pulled back as she examined and shuddered in memory, then stepped into the shower to finger herself until every moan seemed to form his name. She hated herself for it all but did it just the same, unable to resist the replay of every second, every moment spent with him. He was like a drug, to her.

That was one of the many reasons that this had to end. For the sake of her sanity, even her very _life_ , it had to end.

**** **** **** 

She waited carefully for the right time and place--a simple staff meeting at SHIELD that neither of them was really expected to attend--and yet, even with a building full of people and half the hallways covered by cameras, she doubted her safety. Would she _ever_ really be safe from him? Was it even _possible_?

She'd sent him a hasty text--that he could find her in the copier room. It was only a small, windowless space adjacent to the one in which the meeting would be taking place, but as near to safety as could be found. Others would be nearby. Tony might, even--and he would help her, surely, if she needed it. Still, her shoulders hunched as she heard those familiar steps in the hall, the door opening to a bright voice:

"Lady Darcy," he smiled as though slightly dim. The playful Thor, the one everyone knew and expected. "There was something you wished to discuss with me?

Her hands trembled on the files she was holding, nearly sending the whole sheaf scattering to the floor. "Thor." She spoke quietly, softly, eyes huge behind her glasses, thin sweater revealing a tempting hint of cleavage. Her hair lay in careless brown curls across her shoulders, knees barely steady below the hem of a simple grey skirt. All in tones of black and grey as if she were trying to hide herself in plain sight. "I've been... I mean, I've given this some thought... I..." 

She stammered to a halt, shook her head, and tried again after summoning all her resolve. "This has to end." There, she'd finally said it. "It just... It _has_ to. It's driving me out of my mind--wanting you, craving what you... what you do to me." She blushed and went on. "I can't sleep, I barely eat... Just... please, we have to stop..."

His smile faded, giving way to a look that she mistook for contemplation. Then his eyes narrowed and the cruel expression she knew so well took its place. With a tap of his hand he shoved her back against the nearby wall, broad fingers around her throat and squeezing dangerously as the files dropped to the floor. She struggled but it did no good; he was far too strong and she was far too small. 

Carelessly plucking the glasses from her face, he tossed them aside, teeth bared in a feral grin and lips much too close to her own. "This ends when _I_ say it ends, Darcy-slut. Do you think you can order me about like one of your Midgardian lovers? _Discard_ me?" 

He leaned in closer and she shut her eyes, too fearful to do anything else. Would he hit her? Here, with so many people around to notice the marks and ask questions? Would he simply choke the life from her body and leave her to be found by some unknown clerk? She made a startled, squeaking noise, like a mouse caught in a trap and he finally allowed her a few sips of air.

"You say you want this to end, but if I reached under your skirt right now, what would I find?" His soft laugh stirred her hair as a hand lowered to the hem, toying with the fabric before slipping beneath, his roughened fingertips caressing silken panties as a broad smile split his face. "As I thought," he grinned nastily. "You, wet and willing, hungering to be filled, hurt, _used_ \--by me and _only_ by me. As ever."

Letting her go, he crossed the room to lock the door while Darcy's eyes quickly scanned the small space, desperately seeking another exit but finding none. "Don't do this," she pleaded. "I'll... I'll scream or something if you touch me again."

His grin was dazzling and cold, hair pulled back from his face to reveal every rough line, every hint of golden stubble.

"Aye," he murmured, nodding. "You'll be screaming soon enough--I don't doubt that."

Returning, he jerked her forward roughly, his mouth hard and hot against hers until her lips ached from the harsh contact. Then he simply shoved her over the copier machine, bent so that he could reach her perfectly as he lifted the thin skirt, yanking her panties down to her trembling knees and leaving them there. Darcy had no idea what to do--scream until help came? But then again, wasn't he _right_? She could already feel the trickle of dew spilling down her inner thigh, her breasts suddenly heavy as the nipples hardened to strain against the soft confines of her bra.

Behind her, she heard him unfasten something--some part of his armor, she supposed--leaving the rest intact and his arms bare. One braced on either side of her, which she was grateful for as her knees began to weaken. She couldn't tell anymore if it was in fear or anticipation, but it hardly seemed to matter. One hand caught her hair roughly, wrenching her head back as he drove into her with no warning or preamble.

A gasp of shocked pleasure tore from her and she rocked back against him needily, every stroke battering against her cunt, but welcomed by her traitorous body all the same. No matter what her mind wanted, her body still craved this, and it would be over for her in a matter of seconds, she already knew; no more than a few brief strokes and her muscles clenched eagerly around him, spinning her helplessly toward the edge.

Then he pulled free, leaving her in shocked bewilderment until his fingers plunged into the wetness between her legs to spread it upward, parting her bared cheeks deftly as wet fingers twisted inside to prepare her. His other hand clamped over her mouth, leaving muffled cries unheard as he steadied himself, guiding inch by inch until his cock was buried in her softly rounded ass. She blinked away threatening tears as he started to thrust, soft moans and growls of pleasure breathed across her ear as he simply took what he wanted. What he considered _his_.

Her hand slipped down beneath the brief skirt to stroke her clit and ease the dreadful ache, but he caught it and placed it firmly back on the plastic edge.

"You're already starting to enjoy this," he hissed, "so this time you come without a single touch to aid you." Darcy shook her head desperately, begging behind the palm of his hand, but he only moved faster, his cock pounding insistently into her ass. "And the whole room behind that wall-friends, supervisors, co-workers--not a single one will know what's being done to you." He bucked harder and she lowered her head, shoulders shaking as tears spilled warmly over his hand. 

It was a fierce, tearing ache that seemed to go on forever, his endless strokes into her bared bottom. If not for the leather of his pants, she'd have heard the familiar slap of his skin against hers, but instead there was nothing but endless, tearing heat--until she lifted on tip-toe, subtly changing the angle until his cock bumped her G-spot accidentally.

She gasped behind his broad, calloused hand, eyes wide with shock as her legs stretched further. Another thrust, and another grind into that buried sweetness. It was impossible, that combination of burning pain and thrumming pleasure--impossible, but unmistakably real. She blushed with shame as her body started to shiver, insides simultaneously aching and clenching as the pleasure grew.

"All this happening with those people just feet away from us both--I'd take you just like this in front of every single one of them if I could," he whispered, feeling her draw closer to the edge just as he'd been about to relent. The wetness inside her spilled over again and her maddening arousal was contagious. He rocked harder against her, plunging deeper and faster as the moans vibrated his palm. "Even Jane," he growled as the quivering pressure gripped him, pulling him to the edge along with her. "Tease your nipples for me, Darcy--pinch them just the way I would do."

One step closer and she would be there--he could feel it--and as her hands obediently, eagerly sought those aching peaks and twisted, he knew the sensation had finally overwhelmed her. She drove back wildly against his pummeling thrusts, gasps and helpless sounds of pleasure behind his hand. There would be no order this time; it wasn't needed. He could feel it in the pulsing grip around his length and sharp, hitching breaths between muted moans.  
His own had to be silenced as well, though, and he tugged down the shoulder of her sweater, biting hard into soft skin until he felt more than heard her final, sharp cry of pleasure and could heed his body's own demand for release, gripping one hip to pull her nearer even as she rose to meet him, whimpering behind his hand until he finally came; a long, throbbing sweetness as his seed pumped harder into her on every rocking move.

When he was sure it was safe, he slowly uncovered her mouth again, kissing the marks his teeth had left on her shoulder in a rare fit of tenderness.

"Plaything," he murmured into her hair. It smelled faintly of strawberries; as deliciously tempting as her curves and full breasts. "Toy. Mine to use or break if it suits me. Now, answer me truthfully, girl--do you _really_ want this to end?

Pausing, still leaning over the copier machine, Darcy shook her head quickly, ripples of pleasure still spilling unexpectedly through her despite the steady throbbing in her ass.

"Say it," he ordered, voice rough and demanding.

Her own sounded breathless; a soft little quiver of sound. "No, Master--Thor--no... I don't want this to end."

Beaming at her, he re-dressed himself and then helped her on with her sodden panties and thankfully unbesmirched skirt before unlocking the door again, slipping out of the room with a trail of red silk in his wake. Fetching her glasses and holding them to her chest, Darcy sank against the wall, curled until her head rested on her knees and shuddering as she tried to work out what had just happened. She felt wounded and elated at the same time, baffled and afraid and at last, deeply resigned. There was nothing she or anyone else could do to stop him. He considered her his, and so she was--it was just that simple, and just that impossible to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: A _very_ unexpected protector.


	3. The truth comes out (ch 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected interlude between pseudo-enemies, and an offer of help from an unexpected source.

It was a point of mild amusement at SHIELD that Darcy had been chosen to bring Loki his meals (which he rarely touched), books, and any other things he might need during his captivity. Put simply, she was considered such a non-threat to him that he barely seemed to notice her presence, and any attempt on his part to verbally bait or manipulate her was met with dismissive sarcasm. 

Until that quiet fall afternoon when he glanced up from his volume just as she dutifully set the tray on the small table, and spied the dark bruises on her wrists. Bruises she had deliberately worn long sleeves to cover, but then, very little ever escaped the Trickster's quick notice. 

Green eyes flicking from the blue-black stains to the faint, shadowed circles under her eyes and around her throat--stains that makeup could not conceal from his watchful eye, and he quickly put the facts together. Reaching for her arm before she could retract it, he pushed back the cuff to look more closely. They were exactly the width of a familiar hand, left by someone much stronger than any Midgardian.

His expression was one of smirking confirmation as he sat back, hands on his thighs, and spoke just quietly enough that the cameras would capture no sound.

"So, you've discovered my brother's hidden... inclinations," he smiled bitterly. "Normally he goes for fresh young maidens, too naive and easily cowed to speak out against him, but I can understand why he might make an exception for _you_ , Miss Lewis. You would present a challenge. And an appealing one at that." He looked her up and down appreciatively, lips twitching, then simply dropped the smug pride like a discarded mask, eyes on hers with steady intensity.

"Take care, girl--where I might aim to rule this petty realm, Thor is content to destroy one woman at a time. And he's nearly there already; I can see it in your face. It's a look I've seen before." He lowered his eyes to his own pale fingers, expression almost... sorrowful.

Darcy gnawed her lip and glanced around the room--afraid anyone, _anyone_ might overhear. "What can I do?" she whispered. "I've already tried breaking it off, and he... he..." She closed her eyes tightly at the onslaught of memory. "He wouldn't let me."

Loki's smile was wry, his emerald eyes still tinged with sadness. "What you can do, Miss Lewis, is the one thing I fear you'd never bring yourself to contemplate: _trust me_.

"

The guard banged heavily on the door. She'd been in there too long, and extended contact with the prisoner was strictly forbidden. Still, as they both stood, Loki caught her fingertips with a gentle, unexpected squeeze--the contact so startling that she nearly panicked and dove for the exit, if not for the steady certainty of his eyes on hers. 

"I _can_ protect you from him," he promised. "Remember that. I couldn't save others..." Again, that odd look of distant sadness crossing his face like a shadow, "But I _can_ save _you_."

Leaning forward, he planted the briefest, lightest of kisses on the corner of her mouth, then released her hand and turned to the guard, mask of venomous hatred and wicked humor back in place. "Sadly," he announced, arms outspread, "she has spurned my advances yet again. Perhaps you're more her type--an intellectually inferior little worm."

Smiling pleasantly, he resumed his seat on the bench, nose buried once again in his book as though nothing else in the room were of further interest to him.

Darcy breathed a sigh of relief at his hasty cover, marching angrily through the door as if she'd been offended. "I can't believe he _touched_ me," she muttered to the guard, feigning a shudder of disgust. "Now I have to go home and scrub myself with _lye_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're guessing Thor will not be pleased by all this, you're guessing right...


	4. Punishment (Ch 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Torture masquerading as bsdm (if you haven't noticed, bdsm is horribly misrepresented in this entire fic, so do not try this at home, kids--it's ficton. Learn from better sources what bdsm is really about, please!)
> 
> Violence. Lots of violence. 
> 
> A very angry Thor.
> 
> Blood, and (genuinely) crazy sex. The lines are blurred further, but this time h's gone too far.

Word traveled quickly in the small sphere of SHIELD's little world. If one person knew of her strange liaison with the prisoner, then shortly so would everyone else. Such was the price, she supposed, of heavy surveillance and protection... but inevitably word reached Thor's ears as well, just as she knew it was bound to do. 

When next they passed each other in the hallway, the look he gave her promised a night that would end in pleas for forgiveness, at the very least. That _anyone_ should touch that he considered his was bad enough, but that it was _Loki_... Well, since he couldn't punish the culprit, she would suffer in his stead.

Darcy was a jumbled, useless mess for the rest of the day, torn between quaking fear and a wild, self-destructive anticipation. 

Both feelings multiplied to an unbearable intensity when she finally returned home, and opened the door to find him waiting there, sitting on her couch with one arm casually thrown over the back, booted foot resting on one knee. A black cotton t-shirt stretched temptingly across his brawny chest, and pants of glistening dark leather--a reminder of home, she supposed--graced his well-formed legs. His hair was in loose disarray against his shoulders--a beautiful monster in black and gold, but _oh_ how she wanted him. So badly it _hurt_ , and she leaned heavily against the door in an attempt to catch her breath.

Dark blue eyes that burned with anger, their depths swirling like storm clouds, snapped up to meet and hold hers, leaving her feeling like an animal in a trap.  
"I want to know _every_ word that passed between you, every touch, every pause, every single second you spent in his company." He spoke calmly enough, but the thrum of his tone belied rage at a slow boil just beneath the surface.

"It was nothing!" she lied. "He... He noticed I hadn't been sleeping well, said I must have found a lover... he insulted me... You know how he is!"

Thor's face remained set in hard lines of anger as rain began to fall outside. "Aye. I _do_ know him. Far too well to think that he'd do or say anything without some further intention," he sneered. "And what of your 'lover'? What had he to say on that?"

She was so afraid that her teeth were chattering, now, the door still at her back. "Just that I was too... too... _bland_ to be worthwhile and he could teach me a few tricks--he was just baiting me, just being an asshole--that's all it was, I swear!"

He had risen from the couch and stalked toward her with feline grace before she'd even thought to open the door behind her and run. Besides, where could she go? 

"I don't believe you," he said in a low, deadly tone, his voice a rumble that matched the angry thunder outside. 

Thor wove his fingers through her dark hair, blue eyes still burning into hers. "He touched you. He _kissed_ you--and you allowed it."

Her protest was shrill and desperate. "I didn't know he was going to! I didn't have time to stop him!" Shutting her eyes and bracing herself, she gasped a simple "Please!" before his fingers unlatched, palm striking her cheek hard, first on one side and then the other.

"Lying... little... _whore_ ," he breathed against her ear, hands buried in her hair again. The kiss, when it came, was fierce with anger and lust, salty with her own tears of shock. Pulling her roughly into the center of the floor with hands entangled in her curls, he simply dropped her there, her knees striking the carpet hard enough to leave them bruised and bleeding. "Take off your blouse, Darcy."

With trembling fingers, she obeyed. The bra was next--before he'd even asked her to. She wasn't even sure if she was excited or not. The fear of him seemed to overwhelm everything else, and outside, lightning split the sky as the rain poured down. A god's rage, she thought, stomach knotting as she gazed up at him. 

"No one--be he of Midgard _or_ Asgard, touches what is mine. _No one._ " The words were spat in outrage, his already fractious state near the breaking point. She made soft sounds of fearful supplication, simply because she couldn't help herself, but he paid them no mind.

Both cheeks burned from where he'd struck them, and tears quavered unshed in her voice. She hated that she was like this with him--that she couldn't be otherwise--but he was simply too terrifying for spunk or sarcasm, especially when he was as angry as this. "I didn't do anything wrong, I swear... I'd never do anything to hurt you, M--Master." The lie was painful, but if it was all that stood between her and death, even guilt could barely touch her.

Thor paced around his prize thoughtfully, like a jungle cat seeking the best angle of attack. Finally crouching down to hold her chin in his hand, he forced her to meet his gaze as a small, cruel smirk quirked the corners of his lips. "You know I'm going to hurt you, Darcy. And you know some dark little part of you will even _enjoy_ it. Just like always. ...I can't touch my brother, but I _can_ touch _you_ \--and I can make you pay for his mistakes. Maybe the next time he reaches for you, you'll finally remember to whom you belong." He left the room and she waited, eyes closed tight in a fervent hope that she would at least survive the night--that it wouldn't be _too_ bad... And all the while a wicked, traitorous heat gathered between her thighs.

 _'No, no, no, **no** ,'_ she thought, fighting the desire uselessly. _Wanting_ him to be wrong. Self-hatred filled her, but still the heat grew, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

He returned with a rolled towel under one arm; no knowing what tools it contained, but none of them, judging by his mood, were likely to be pleasant. She'd seen him angry before, but never as angry as this, and lightning crackled again, just enough to startle her as he knelt by her side. 

Hands grasping and squeezing her breasts until she shivered, he rolled each nipple beneath his palm until both stood eagerly erect. Then he held one steady and positioned the first tweezer clamp--a hateful, crushing, painful thing attached by a chain to its mate. Usually those were reserved for the worst of punishments, and that he _began_ with them made her stomach twist and knot in fear. As both were adjusted to an unbearable pinch, she arched hard to escape the sensation--as if it were even possible. Her breath hissed through her teeth until he shoved her head back down and looped a second chain around her neck, deftly connecting the two so that every arch, every squirm, every movement would tug on the clamps, sending pain pulsing through both breasts.

To test the theory, he pulled her head back by the hair until she begged him to stop, then laughed softly at her words before finally letting go. Darcy simply curled around the throbbing of her tender nipples, knowing that the clamps were too tight; _easily_ enough to leave them bruised the next morning, but also knowing that if she dared try to loosen them herself, he'd catch her and... who knew what he might do then?

From the thin roll he next drew a long, supple rod. She wasn't familiar with it, but the thin length promised a terrible sting, and with the chains in place, she couldn't even struggle away from it. If she'd been afraid before, it was nothing compared to what she felt now. 

Grabbing the cane and a few scarves of silk from the kit, he knelt beside her again, forcing one rolled length of fabric against her tongue and tying the other around her head to secure it--a simple cloth gag. The other was used to tie her wrists behind her back, pulling the chain between the clamps even tighter, then he simply tucked his fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt and panties, tearing away both with one quick rip that sent waves of jarring pain through her swaying, bouncing breasts until she howled behind the gag, the sound slowly abating as the sensation settled back to a dull, angry throb again. 

His sunny face smiled down at her, a dark promise in the look that again stirred the heat between her legs unwillingly, the tension doubling as he pulled the thin shirt off over his head and she couldn't help but marvel at his well-toned form yet again; the perfection of every curve and line that left her longing to touch, to feel the heat of him against her, within her, delighting in the smooth power and grace of his body as he moved...

But instead she felt the cold tap of the rod beneath her chin as he studied her face--gagged and wide-eyed, lust and fear warring in her sweet expression. He circled, and the first whipping sting of the cane nearly bent her double, leaving her gasping for air through the silken gag. The next brought tears, but they were muffled to near-silence. A flurry of strokes next--god, was he even _trying_ to hold back any more?--made her twist and thrash, indistinct screams filling the room as the movement tugged the clamps taut, sending twin bolts of pain through her nipples and downward, a hot, shameful ache below pounding in time with her racing pulse. 

There were more--so many more that she quickly lost count and the room swam before her eyes--but he wasn't finished yet. The supple rod left marks so deep that they drew blood from her skin in places, and it hurt to breathe. Darcy could only rock in place, sobbing through the gag as each fresh stroke tore at her flesh and the dull, endless ache of her crushed nipples refused to be silenced, renewed on every whistling blow. 

She couldn't bear it. With every passing second she became increasingly sure that she would faint or worse, and silently she promised herself that if this ever ended, she would accept Loki's offer, turn to him for help, anything to make this stop--the constant fear, the escalating torture, the shame of every orgasm, the madness of each second spent at Thor's mercy. 

Another sting jolted her back to the moment. They were falling across her shoulders now; every single one drawing the chain tight until the lines and barriers all began to blur. The aching tug on those crushed, throbbing buds sent a shiver of heat through her, skin flushed and cunt clenching in wet desperation as she fell into a rhythm of her own, lifting to her knees with back bowed under the cane, then arcing to feel the wrenching pull against each nipple. 

Shame filled her as the shivers started; a rapid tremble from head to toe as she danced in place, head bowing and lifting until the shivers gave way to helpless shudders, soft breaths through the gag sounding increasingly like moans.

The next swing of that supple rod and she felt it--felt everything collapse into a maddening spiral of sensation that her body _had_ to escape from. She arched as far as she could, snapping the clamps from her nipples as bursts of impossible pain tore from her breasts, down and down until her cunt clenched hard, moans mixed with sobbing whimpers of relief as the orgasm took her, every cut of the cane only another sweet addition to the mindless pleasure that rocked her, burning through her body until there was nothing left but ecstasy, nothing but the sweet release from her torment.

Her back and sides and shoulders were all bleeding, and deep blue-black marks leaked red from her nipples as well, but at least he had stopped, crouching beside her to untie her hands and the gag.

Self-contempt rose as she realized what she'd done, but she didn't care anymore. He pulled her to her feet and half-carried her as her scraped knees buckled, and she could feel him unbutton his trousers as they went. This, too, was a welcomed release. Anything but more pain was welcome, now.

Balancing her on the rounded arm of the couch, he slipped between her parted thighs and plunged into her soaking heat, nails dragging across the cuts on her back and twisting her bloodied nipples until pain and pleasure melded again, sending her arching back in rapture, her legs locked tightly around his waist as she relied on his arms to hold her upright.

They didn't fail, even as one wave of pleasure led instantly to the next, and another after that. She felt her own wetness soak the fabric beneath her, but didn't care--only the sweet, rhythmic thrusting of his cock mattered, the roughness of his zipper scraping her labia and clit, the look of feral lust on his face as she lapped at the sweat that covered his chest and came _again_ , slick muscles pulsing around him until he bucked harder, both hands first fisted in her hair, then cupping her ass to jerk her forward, pounding brutally as she came, over and over again, so intensely that she feared it would never stop--moaned her fear that it would never stop--and was rewarded by a snarling half-groan as he joined her, head back and throat bared as he slammed relentlessly forward, every pulse of his delicious width drawing another wave of sweeping pleasure through her shuddering body. He kept going, guiding her through another and another until she was babbling now, begging him for help as her body couldn't seem to end them on its own

Gradually, he slowed his pace until the fluttering grip of her inner walls began to slow as well, finally stopping as she collapsed against him in gratitude. 

He pulled her head back by a tangled knot of curls and slapped her again. "That was supposed to be a _punishment _, Darcy- _slut_." Another slap and she held her stinging cheek as tears threatened. "But maybe tomorrow when every last inch of you aches and you can barely move... Maybe that will serve as reminder enough."__

__She nodded eagerly, then nuzzled against the hand that had struck her, kissing the scarred knuckles and thick palm as the tears finally fell._ _

__Her mind--her entire world--had turned inside out, and she felt like nothing but an empty shell. She wanted his arms around her, wanted him to simply hold her close for the rest of the night, but knew already that the best she could hope for was to crawl shivering beneath her sheets with his forgotten t-shirt in her hands, simply to breathe in the loved, hated, feared scent of him as she dreamt._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This /should/ be as bad as it gets. It's not all the sex that there will be, but I think Darcy's reached the breaking point and this should be as much pain as she's subjected to. Poor mite.


	5. Astrid (ch 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki pauses for a moment of recollection--and unexpected self-recrimination. 
> 
> (Also, my computer nearly ate this one and I had a hell of a time getting it back. I think I'm done for the night. @.@)

Loki paced restlessly in his cage, uncharacteristically worried about the girl--and remembering another from years past, one long since forgotten by everyone, it seemed, save for him.

Her name had been Astrid. An usual name it had seemed at the time, the syllables strange on his tongue, like a distant star or an undiscovered flower. _Astrid_.

He remembered her well: the pale, startling beauty of that heart-shaped face, her wide, pale brown eyes, perfectly formed lips and long, white-gold hair. She walked so lightly the earth barely seemed to touch her small, white feet, her body so supple that the willow trees seemed to shake with envy as she passed.

Of course, these were the memories of a love-struck boy, desperately courting her only to be beaten out--as always--by the stronger, elder son. 

Apart from nursing his wounded pride and broken heart, there was nothing he could do, and the world spun on regardless... until he'd seen the bruises, first on her arms, then her cheek, her eyes shadowed and haunted, nervously glancing about as she dismissed her injuries--simple clumsiness, an accident--but his instinct said otherwise. Others whispered that an illness had overtaken her, and he nearly convinced himself of that. Certainly, she had changed. Fear stole her grace, the pink cheeks that alighted when she smiled were suddenly ashen, she grew more pale and thin by the day.

No one spoke of it. They whispered rumors and speculation, but it was nothing more than that, and some part of him just simply... _knew_. What exactly he wasn't sure, but it filled him with unease and he tried to speak with her, again and again, until finally she confided in him. At first he disbelieved--not because he doubted that his brother was a bully, experience had already taught him that much--but because he couldn't imagine any man harming a creature as beautiful as she.

Loki alone had been allowed to see the full extent of her wounds, to bathe and to soothe her, to treat the many bruises and cuts and damage done to her peerless form. Only to him had she confessed--lovely face wrought with shame--that she'd begun to crave the beatings; that love and pain were now so hopelessly bound together in her mind that she felt they'd never be separated again. That she feared for her own safety, and sanity.

He'd toweled her dry, then kissed every inch of her soft skin, marred or otherwise. He best remembered kissing her perfect lips: how she'd feared, then braced herself, and finally gasped in sweet shock at the tender touch of his mouth to hers, the warmth and comfort of that simple contact.

He'd spent the entire night with her, loved her so gently that they were both surprised when she rushed to completion again and again under his light touch and skillful tongue.  
By dawn, there was finally a glimmer of hope in those haunted brown eyes, and a kind of silent contentment as he swore to protect her--vowed that his brother would never be allowed to harm her again.

The very next day, he took her case to the All-Father himself. The all-wise, all-powerful king had deliberated--and ultimately concluded that it had been Loki himself who had injured the girl out of spite, manufacturing slander against his brother and summarily barring him any future contact with her. Instead, she was returned to their beloved elder son. Their golden child who could do no wrong. 

His stomach still twisted at the memory of her stricken look--hope extinguished, eyes wide with fear and disbelief, and worst of all the heartbreaking _resignation_ as they led her from the hall and out of his reach forever. He'd never felt so helpless in his life; so utterly insignificant or torn by guilt as he imagined all that would befall her because of him.

Two days later, they found her hanging from a beam in one of the old stables, fresh bruises still livid on the white skin of her lifeless body. 

Loki paced in a growing, silent rage. It would not happen again. Even if he didn't know what place there might yet be in his new empire for that girl--with her haunted blue eyes and soft brown curls--somehow he would at _least_ protect her. He had power enough now. He had the cunning he had lacked in his youth.

And yet, still as he stood against the glass wall of his prison, one hand resting on the smooth surface as he peered out into the darkness, he kicked himself for his own foolish impulsivity; the childishness of that single, irresistible kiss, knowing that she was out there even now, paying some unknown penalty for his lack of self-control. _Darcy_. Another strange name to him, another set of unfamiliar syllables, but growing more familiar by the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Loki/Darcy shortly...


	6. The bravest step (ch 6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important decision is made, and even mire important information delivered. Also, Darcy regains a little of her old fighting spirit, at last.

She carried the tray in without a word, both cheeks still reddened--though thankfully unbruised--and her usual tantalizing motions replaced instead by stiff, painful ones. Loki watched her, his brow creased with worry.

"Don't touch me," she hissed as soon as he entered the room. "He doesn't like--he wouldn't--just... please, don't touch me."

Nodding silently, his lips a thin line of anger as all his fears were confirmed, it was a little while before Loki could speak. "Are you alright? he asked softly.

The eyes that turned to his were red from crying and hollow with self-loathing, fresh tears brimming even at his gentle concern. "No," came her quiet answer. There was a long pause, and then she handed him an unrequested book, turning again without a word and leaving as the airlocked door hissed shut behind her.

He sat for a moment in guilty confusion before finally opening the book, finding inside a simple note:  
 _'You say you can protect me, and I believe you,'_ it read. _'And I **really** don't know if I'm doing the right thing by asking for your help, but here I am. We both know there's no one else who could, even if they believed me at all, which none of them would. _

_So, I guess this is me trusting you, Loki. Don't fuck it up._

_I'm doing this now because... it's getting worse. If he doesn't kill me outright, I swear I'll do it myself just to get free of him. So please, if you've ever done a good thing in your life, please help me. If he sees this, I don't know that he'll do, so I'm literally putting everything in your hands. Everything.'_

He read and re-read the letter, rage at his brother and fear for her safety filling him until he wanted to pound his fists on the glass in frustration. To bait the fools at SHIELD was one thing, but to quietly dismember an innocent woman like this, body and soul... that was something else completely. And they called _him_ a monster?

Idly, he rifled the book's pages, amused by the title-- _The Once and Future King_ \--when he spotted something in the back. It was a simple key code and an address, printed neatly to be sure that neither could be mis-read. He worked quickly through the slim volume, deciphering the code until all that remained was a series of digits--the numbers that would free him from his cell.

The Trickster grinned broadly and, with a murmured incantation, incinerated the whole thing as it hovered above the palm of his hand. Everything was burned to a fine ash; book, note, code, and all. He had everything he needed, after all, and would leave nothing behind that might be traced back to her.

She would have her protection, and he would finally see some measure of justice brought to his brother for all the things he'd gotten away with for so long. It was all he could do not to laugh like a madman in the silence of his cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, to get her to safety... after a brief, unexpected interlude, of course,


	7. Discovery, and knights in black leather (ch 7)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (not exactly) dramatic escape, and a private moment between former enemies.
> 
> This chapter's a shout-out to the Tasertricks shippers, so lots of Loki/Darcy smut and a bit of fluff, as well as some angst.
> 
> It's also a bit long, so there may be a little break before the next one.

It was not, as escapes went, a spectacularly thrilling one--he simply typed in the numbers on the interior keypad and walked out, teleporting himself to ground level and shape-shifting quickly to resemble another panicked clerk, scurrying away from the ruckus amid the shrill blaring of alarms. Transport, of course, proved to be slightly more of a challenge. He had no idea how to drive a car, and was _certainly_ not going back into the mayhem of SHIELD's central facility just to locate keys. Still, he knew the rough location of her home, and could teleport--that was better than nothing.

This took several tries before he got it right, finally landing in a crouch just outside her door. He allowed himself a small, self-congratulatory smile, then readied himself. His scepter was still in the lab, untold miles overhead where they sought uselessly to divine its secrets, but that was precisely where he needed it for now--his plan was still underway, and he had no intention of stopping it. 

Still, no matter--he had enough throwing knives and delicate blades that SHIELD had _not_ relieved him of to take down a small garrison. By dawn, barring unforeseen circumstances, he would be back again in his glass-walled prison with an angelic smile on his face while the idiots at SHIELD scratched their heads and tightened security again. 

Knocking gently again, unsure of what to expect or exactly who might answer the door, he readied himself more thoroughly by bracing a set of throwing knives between his knuckles... Only to find himself confronting a small, bespectacled woman, clad in checkered pink pajama pants and and oversized t-shirt depicting frolicking kittens with a ball of string. It took a few seconds for recognition to dawn, and then she hissed, "Are you _insane??_ " before dragging him inside, checking to see that no one had followed.

Meanwhile, he took in her small, humble dwellings with vague interest. Somehow it was exactly as he'd imagined it--cramped, with one chair mismatched from the rest and near a lamp so that she could read more comfortably. A small, gleaming table and chairs sat in the alcove that served as a dining area, though it looked as if it had never been touched. The space was surprisingly tidy, all except for the tiny corner where her books, iPod, and a steaming cup of coffee sat waiting; a tiny little nook in a space that otherwise seemed nearly unoccupied. It reminded him strangely of his own quarters back on Asgard--everything tidy except for his well-worn desk that also served as a workspace. The rest untouched and unneeded. 

Closing the door, she turned on him in scathing, sarcastic anger, and oh, how heartening it was to see her again as she'd been before; the fiery blue of her eyes and half-understood insults... He had missed that, he realized.

Finally winding down, she announced that his brother wasn't there. The spark slowly left her eyes as she folded arms across herself, rubbing as if to drive away a sudden chill. "Usually he... texts me first, or leaves a note. Funny how he always pretends not to understand how cell phones work unless he's alone," she laughed bitterly. "And then again, after last night, maybe he won't--"

"--What happened last night?" His voice was soft, tinged with concern and guilt. Darcy grimaced and stared at the far wall, saying nothing while he crossed the room--footsteps light to avoid startling her--and gingerly placed his cooling hand on the burning red of one cheek. It seemed darker than the other, as if it had been struck harder or more frequently. Perhaps both.

Something inside his chest twisted with pain for her sake. It was Thor's anger at _him_ that she'd paid the price for, and he knew it. "I know it's... a great deal to ask of you, Darcy..." He'd never spoken her name that way before. Gentle, informal, with no trace of mockery in it. "But I... I need to see all of it. Everything he did to you because of me. I need to know what I caused. Can you understand that?" She turned to him slowly, reading the sorrow in his deep green eyes, and then silently, looking away from him with stoic calm, she pulled off her t-shirt, eyes burning with self-hatred in a face that otherwise showed no emotion at all.

Loki rocked on his heels as the room swayed, and then forced himself to look at every bruise and cut, even the traces of blood that had stained her thin white bra at the tips. She'd done nothing to care for injuries, choosing instead, he assumed, to pretend they simply weren't there at all. 

She turned her face further as he tried to meet her eyes, and he wanted to rest fingers beneath her chin, pull her back to look at him, but refused. He was not his brother. He would not force her to do anything she did not _choose_ to do. "This isn't your shame to carry," he murmured, "it's _his_. And if I can, if I ever have the opportunity, _I will kill him for doing this to you_." In truth that wasn't the only reason, but right now it felt like a damned good place to start. 

"If it isn't _my_ shame," she shot back, finally turning to reveal the tears tracing long paths over her ruddy cheeks, "then why did I come, like, seventeen times afterward? You can't really help me. Not the way you're trying to do. No one can." 

"And sometimes a woman being taken against her will experiences pleasure in spite of herself. Is it not still rape?" he said softly, letting the question linger as every inch of his brother's handiwork was seared into his mind, accompanied by the fierce wish that it could have been his own skin marked and not hers. 

"These should be cared for," he said softly, indicating the wounds. "And I have no magic to heal them." In truth, his skills had always run to deceit or destruction, neither of which seemed terribly useful just now. Fortunately he always carried a small pouch of herbs--nothing that would do more than close some of the shallower cuts, ease some of her aches and pains, but it was the best he could offer for the time being. 

Pulling the small leather bag from his belt, he grasped it in one had. "Will you-- _can_ you trust me enough to bathe you, Darcy? I may be able to help with the contents of this and some minor spell work... It's little enough, I'll grant you, but if it will ease your pain even a little, I owe you that much. Had it not been for my own stupid impulse..." He trailed off with a soft laugh at himself, feeling strangely childish and struck by the familiarity of the situation. "At least let me do what little I can to help," he said. 

That small supply was all he had--meant for lost battles and unexpected wounds--but he offered it without hesitation and finally, something in her seemed to soften and she nodded, tears slowly drying as she stared at him in disbelief. That _he_ should be the one to save her was almost enough to inspire hysterical giggles, but... then again, she would never have pictured sweet, gentle Thor forcing her to crawl across the room and beg for the privilege of sucking his cock, nor any of the thousand other things he'd done in the past few months. 

She waited in the living room until Loki called for her. 

On his part, he fiddled with the taps and plug, wondering why everything on Midgard seemed so frustrating and needlessly complex. Testing the water on his inner wrist, he waited for the tub to fill as he emptied the pouch, spreading the herbs through the warmth with one hand until they dissolved with a brief, sibilant incantation. The water shimmered a pale green, then faded back to clarity as he called her in. 

She was naked, and he could see the faded yellow of old bruises along the backs of her trim thighs. A knot tightened in his throat, and despite his best intentions he still found himself admiring the graceful curves and plentiful breasts she revealed without a single trace of shame. The Trickster twisted in discomfort, knowing that she was too numb and too pained to think of anything erotic, _particularly_ at this moment, but still his cock stiffened irritatingly at the sight of her, hands longing to caress each welcoming curve--and she would be welcoming, he knew; pliant and eager to obey anything he asked of her. But he would far rather bed the scrappy, spirited girl he had come to know so well than this bruised, hollow shell. 

She slid gratefully into the water as Loki's spell and the mixture of herbs worked their magic quickly, and then arched with a _far_ too arousing moan as the painful wounds on her nipples healed, followed slowly by the cutting swathes along her shoulders and back. He took a soft cloth and wet it, dabbing her neck, shoulders, and cheeks until the marks of each slap had faded almost completely. None of this, in fact, would heal her completely, but it would draw out the worst of the sting so that she could move without pain again, at least. 

"What next?" she asked dreamily, still neck-deep in the warm water. 

"Next, we find you a place of safety, and I have a few... _words_ with my brother." His eyes glittered with malice at the thought, and if he expected her to rush to Thor's defense, he was disappointed--but in fact, he felt a surge of pride. At last, they were on the same side. Well, more or less, anyway. 

"Safety," she echoed softly, head nodding against her shoulder. 

"Step out of the tub," he smiled, "before you fall asleep there." In sufficient dosage the herbs had a soporific effect that he was familiar with himself, accidentally. 

As she climbed out, dripping and gleaming like a water-nymph, Loki toweled her gently dry. Neither of them intended or expected what came next; his hand lingered too long as it cupped the rounded heat between her thighs, and then she was kissing him--hard, much too hard--until he drew back to taste her lips more gently, the towel brushing across her stomach in brief strokes before rising to those full, thankfully healed breasts, and there she cupped his hand and held it, guiding his movements in small, light circles as the terry cloth rubbed each stiffening bud in turn. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," he confessed, catching sight of one half-healed welt across her shoulder. 

"No," she whispered in guilty agreement. "But please do it anyway." 

He paused to wring the water from her hair, gently massaging her scalp as he kissed the bared line of her throat. He'd seen the bruises there--bruises she had desperately tried to hide--bruises left by Thor's cruel hands. He wished his kisses could take the memory of them away just as his magic had taken their marks, but he had no incantations for that, only this--his lips finding hers again, full and delicate and sighing against the gentle brush of his own. 

Kneeling without a single thought to the irony of their respective roles, he traced small, playful nips across her stomach until she laughed; a sudden, startled burst of humor that he immediately wanted to hear again, but the more insistent, throbbing ache behind the front flap of his trousers drew him lower, tongue-tip darting out to curl across her clitoris until it hardened and he felt her hand cup the back of his head, a long, shaky breath echoing off the tiles as he lapped and twirled, teasing until the eager pressure of her hand and the hard throb against his lips decided him: he would make love to her tonight. There was no doubt in his mind. He would remind her again that ecstasy was possible even without the abuse she'd come to crave. Until pleasure alone was all she knew and the marks on her skin seemed like nothing more than a bad dream. 

He beckoned her toward the bedroom, spotting a single scarf still tied to one post. Quickly, he unknotted it and kicked it under the bed, wanting no reminders present and idly amusing himself with thoughts of using that same thin cloth to strangle the life from the brute who still called him "brother." 

His armor, of course, took some effort to remove. It had been designed for battle, not pleasure, and there were layers upon layers of thick leather between the outside world and the simple under tunic and leggings beneath. Without it, he felt vulnerable beyond words. Even his long-familiar blades were beyond his reach now, lying with the rest of his clothes. There was nothing to defend himself with, no means of self-protection... and then he saw her in the doorway, clad only in a towel, hair still damp from the bath, and blue eyes touched unmistakably by fear. Vulnerability had many forms, and for a moment he recognized the singular pettiness of his own as she slowly let the towel drop, revealing all her perfection and imperfection, the soft, luscious skin he could barely wait to touch, the half-faded marks, and the sweet uncertainty on her face. 

Without further pause, he stripped off his shirt and pants, wanting to be as bare as she was, even if he lacked Thor's brawny physique. His grace was smoother, lighter, more nimble and difficult to define, but he didn't make her cringe or tense; didn't leave that knot of fear in her stomach as he approached, and as soon as he was near enough it was _her_ who closed the gap between them, who slid into his arms with her own around his thin frame, needing his nearness as held her as close as he could, warming her body with his own. She rested her hands on his shoulders and lifted, bringing her lips to his more softly this time, basking in the gentle pressure, the taste of him, the smooth touch of his skin on hers. There was nothing more perfect than this but one she she could think of, and she eyed the bed behind him longingly; a glance he couldn't help but notice. 

Leading her to it by the hand, he simply curled around her for ages, the strange syllables of her name again spilling through his mind as he held her: _Darcy_. 

His fingers traced guiltily over two dark lines that crossed on one tender shoulder, and then he pressed his lips there, sliding down to the nape of her neck, nuzzling into the heat and scent of her, wanting to bury himself in it. How anyone, _anyone_ could hurt her was beyond him. Lying there curled against her, feeling the satin-smooth flesh at the base of her neck, he could imagine only one thing. 

Turning her head back to savor again the sweetness of her mouth, he paused to brush his thumb across her chin, then trace the pink curve of her smile, finally trailing beneath and then across the plump fullness of her lips themselves until she shivered against him. "You are _beautiful_ ," he whispered, and she stared at him with doubt in her eyes as he kissed her again, then again, thumb still resting beneath the undercurl of her natural pout. "Beautiful," he repeated, lips beneath her ear as his hands reached to cup her ripe breasts--sweetly heavy and full, the broad nipples slowly stiffening beneath his palms until she sighed softly and pressed back against him. 

She wanted more, and so did he--the quiver below his stomach signaled the slow stirring of his cock, and though he had tried to stave off that arousal for as long as possible, it was now an implacable demand, and his length hardened the more he touched her soft, supple skin. "I need to _taste_ you," he admitted in velvet-smooth tones, guiding her to her back with legs steepled, her body spread beneath his with every enticing curve and luscious swell open to him completely despite the uneasiness in her blue eyes. 

_'This is me trusting you,'_ she had written. He would give her no reason to do otherwise. If his brother thought her a toy, then he was gleefully stealing it, never to return it again. 

He couldn't stop touching her skin. Even marred and stained by that idiot's brutality, she really _was_ beautiful. And he wished he could convince her of it. 

Atop her now, he ghosted soft lips along the hollow of her throat and the curve of each shoulder, his long, gentle fingers curling around one breast to stroke the underside as he sat back to meet her eyes. Those, too, were beautiful, especially when they broke from his to roll under dark, fluttering lids in pleasure. 

The soft, milk-white skin beneath her breasts captivated him completely as he cupped both, watching as her face softened with bliss. Then he lowered his mouth to each sweet nipple, delighting as they swelled and hardened even further beneath the teasing, darting play of his tongue, the sucking warmth and sweet pressure of his lips. And oh, the sounds of her--gasps of shocked delight and sighs softer than air as her fingers wove deftly through his dark locks, massaging his scalp and drawing him nearer, just as eager for more as he was eager to provide it. 

Every time he thought he couldn't be more excited, some new shudder, some roll of her ample hips, some breathless new cry would send another thrill through him, his hardness pulsing for a release that he fully intended to deny for as long as possible. 

Fingertips brushing along her stomach, he held her re-focused eyes with a half-reassuring, half-impish smile as his lids and head lowered, cheek nuzzling against the velvety skin of her inner thigh as her legs parted further to welcome him. Lapping a slow trail along the tender skin where thighs ended and outer folds began, he finally reached the core of her--hot, sweet, and invitingly wet. Oh, how he wanted to plunge into that slick depth; fuck her until there wasn't a thought in either of their heads, and his body gave an eager thrum of longing at the notion, skin flushed hot with the intensity of his own lust, but her pleasure was of far more interest than his just then, and he had long since learned to be patient until the perfect moment could be reached. 

The patience would be worth it, and far sweeter for the wait. 

Burying his face between the tender flesh of her thighs, Loki delighted in the scent of her before his mouth enveloped that eager heat, tongue darting out to explore every fold and crevice, learning every hidden spot and gentle curve of the damp flesh below. Darcy's back arched beneath him with a long, purring gasp of revelation as he examined her deftly. He was in no hurry; lapping eagerly at the dew that spilled so readily from her until his tongue plunged deeper, thrusting like a bird seeking nectar until she twisted and thrashed at every dart, wordless cries escaping parted lips as she moved beneath him in desperation. He knew from experience that a few shallow thrusts would do nothing more than madden most women, though. Thankfully, there were brighter jewels to be gathered, here. 

Seeking the soft bud with artful precision, he delved beneath its thin, protective hood to dapple across the hardness below, rewarded by sharp, sweet sounds of longing as Darcy's hands wound again through his hair, unconsciously guiding him--a guidance he heeded, grinding the flat of his tongue in sweeping circles across the swollen, quivering hardness until she curled and rocked against him, giddy and breathless from pleasure. 

He couldn't resist the impulse to tease, dipping lower again to delve irresistibly into the sweetness below--listening to her gasp and growl with frustration before resuming his wide, circular strokes, quickly feeling her body grow tense against him, muscles so taut that they trembled as she rocked forward, hands stroking his hair at the temples, holding gently but firmly as she curled toward him. "Please don't stop," she gasped, almost a whimper as her legs and arms began to tremble with strain. 

To be honest, stopping was the very _last_ thing on his mind as he slid one hand up to trap the slick little bead between smooth fingertips, his tongue lashing harder and faster, first against it and then around it in turns as her gasps grew more urgent, her hips grinding a quick counter to each wet, spiraling sweep. His pace increased to match hers, tongue pressing harder and darting more quickly until she released his dark locks to lean back, propped on hands behind her that gripped the sheets as her trembling legs went tense once more, her body rocking forward again helplessly as the moans built and grew toward a high, sharp crest of sound. He felt her clit throb beneath his tongue as the orgasm began, felt it pulse again and again between his fingers as she threw back her head and moaned his name, her sweet body and lifted hips trembling wildly as the pleasure took her, leaving her damp with sweat, shaken, and dazed as she gasped for breath. Slowly, the rigid little bud slipped from his fingers as he lapped and teased again just to make her squirm and squeal in playful discomfort. 

Gradually she collapsed back into the pillows, reaching for him instinctively, but he paid her little heed as he lapped instead at the flood of sweetness between her still-trembling thighs. Every plunge of his tongue this time made her groan with mounting _need_. And he felt it too; the aching hardness lying awkwardly beneath him would _not_ be denied any longer, and when he finally kissed his way up to the curve of Darcy's knee, it took every last ounce of will to dally any further. But he knew further patience was needed, even when his own breaths came through clenched teeth until he'd re-gained his self-control. 

Fingertips dancing from her thighs to her soft, perfect breasts, glancing gingerly across her sensitive stomach, he lay propped on one elbow beside her, flicking a stray curl of chestnut-brown back from her face as he murmured gently, " I know very well that you're used to rougher treatment," watching as her dazzled eyes followed his dreamily, "But were I to lie with you.. Which I badly, _very_ badly want to do..." His cock gave another demanding throb and he gritted his teeth against it, "it would be very different from what you've grown used to. I am not my brother." The last word was spoken in contempt before his face and voice softened again, one hand cupping her cheek lightly. "I would never hurt you. All I offer is pleasure, and you deserve exactly that." 

He tipped her head back for another soft kiss, ignoring the mounting lust that roared for his attention. 

She drew a slow breath to speak, choosing her words carefully. "I really meant it when I said that I trust you, Loki. I feel... I don't know... _safe_ with you. I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't." She smiled, still a little uneasy, but with a hint of the old light back in her eyes, at least. "And I _certainly_ wouldn't want more of this--which I very definitely _do_." Smile now completely impish, she tucked one leg between his, nestling against his throbbing length until he squirmed and barely stifled a groan. "Please," she whispered. 

He pressed a finger to her lips, voice admonishing but smile relieved. "You have _no_ need to beg me--certainly not for this, and certainly not _tonight_ ," he smirked, thinking that it might be interesting some day to to hear her plea that she'd had pleasure enough, just to prove her wrong. "A simple 'yes' will suffice." 

"Then _yes_ ," she murmured, turning to wrap her arms around him and pull him down until their bodies met. As she traced warm fingertips over the smoothness of his skin, she found that she was no longer thinking of Thor, or pain, or the marks on her body. If Loki said she was beautiful, then she was--it was enough for now, and it was odd to think off all those days she'd spent, brief minutes at a time in his cell, admiring his cold, regal beauty, the twisting power of his words, and those rare times when his pretenses dropped and he spoke to her gently, spilling stories--true or otherwise--just to have someone else to talk to, or occasionally exchange playful barbs with. 

He in turn remembered the sweet, mousy creature who had brought him his meals, his books; the unexpectedly sharp tongue and quick little mind, either too naive or honestly too brave to be genuinely afraid of him, occasionally listening with doubt in her lovely blue eyes--always framed by those ridiculous glasses-- as if he were not some dire threat, but simply a man. For reasons he couldn't understand at the time, he'd locked those memories away as the simple, sweet gestures of a simple, sweet creature. 

It wasn't love. He didn't really know _what_ to name it, and it wasn't in his nature to dwell on such details, anyway. Perhaps she just reminded him too much of Astrid; a second chance to save the woman he'd lacked the power and the cunning to save before. 

Whatever the reasons here they were, and if nothing else he could love her in the physical sense. As they lay facing each other on the bed, he was entirely focused on doing exactly that, pausing with one had on her hip to simply enjoyed the smooth, flawless curve of it; the luscious shape and feel of her her figure against his. "So beautiful," he purred as she rose to meet him, her own soft hand guiding his cock to her entrance slowly. 

They turned as one so that he was above her, both arms now wrapped around his neck as she whispered in shaking confession, "Loki... I'm scared." 

"We can stop if you need to," he promised, eyes on hers. With a shake of her head, she lifted soft, full lips to his again. 

"If we stop, then it's like he's... won. Like he stole some little part of me, and I won't let him have that." 

He admired her courage and undaunted spirit, but... all the same... "I _won't_ harm you," he promised again. "And if you say 'no,' no matter what we're doing... We stop. It's as simple as that." 

Nodding doubtfully, white teeth catching her underlip and gnawing it briefly, she lifted her hips with slow deliberation and he sank into the sweet slickness below him, groaning as his cock was bathed in a tight heat that gripped and squeezed, sliding gently around his throbbing length until it was sheathed snugly inside her. Loki gasped at the pleasure, unable to help himself, and suddenly understanding all too well why his brother would choose her; why he would seek to control her so utterly that even the touch of a stranger's hand must be shunned. 

She grasped him with a slippery, near-feverish heat that made every rolling twist of her hips more maddening by the second. The grinding pressure of muscles most women didn't even realize they _had_ drew gasp after gasp from both his lips and hers. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes rolling unseen in silent rapture. To hold back further would take all his self-control, but if there was one thing he'd learned in exile and captivity, it was to harness his will and focus more keenly than anyone would have previously thought him capable of. 

His hips moved gently with hers, the pace slow and cautious until she urged him faster. Gently still, he rocked smoothly with her rising cadence as his mouth claimed hers over and over again. Another flutter of muscular squeezes, and it was everything he could do to keep going. "I don't know... How long I can hold back," he whispered, breathing in short gasps now, and grateful to find that she was doing the same. "But as long as you need..." His body roared indignantly at the promise. He ignored its mindless frustration and kept going, murmuring his thoughts in a hushed, silken tone that he could already feel beginning to affect her. Not all magic was so easily identifiable, after all. The whisper of a lover's tongue could weave a potent spell all its own. 

"Just know that you are slick, sweet, maddeningly tight, and every time your cunt slides down my length, every time those fluttering muscles grip me again, I'm one step closer to losing control." He let her hear the quaver of need in his voice, drawing back with a look that bordered on pain as he crossed to the other ear: But don't you _dare_ stop moving. I love the way you feel around me, sweet, sweet Darcy--love the way you tighten around me when you're excited... just like now.." This time it was him who arched, struggling desperately as her hips shifted to move in unison with his. 

There was a noticeable quickening in the canter of her hips. He followed eagerly, sitting up to toy with her reddening nipples or crane his neck to suck and tongue at them until she bucked wildly beneath him, frantic moans drawn from her parted lips and heels digging into the top of the bed while he drank in every sight, every sound, every shudder that passed through her, mesmerized by the jouncing of her breasts, the still-damp nipples and the the lovely twisting of her face in ecstasy as he slipped one hand between them, waiting for the perfect second before pressing down with the heel. Darcy gave a shudder and simply _arced_ against the bed, howls echoing off the walls around them. 

It had only been a slight pressure; enough to drive the silken bundle of nerves at her entrance harder against his cock, intensifying her orgasm and extending it while he watched in rapt fascination, lips parted and eyes glittering with desperate, tightly-controlled hunger. 

Her eyes fluttered open, caught his look, and wrapped her arms around to pull him nearer, gasping his name until they were finally entangled as fully as they could be, her lips barely leaving his even for air. As her head tipped back against the pillow, he left a necklace of kisses across the soft white skin there, followed next by her jawline, cheeks, mouth--every part of her he could reach. 

They were moving too quickly to enjoy this sweetness for much longer; even his gasps admitted it. "I can't," he breathed. "I don't know how long I can hold back."' 

The words were met with a breathless reply. "Then don't," her voice moaned, slowly rising in volume and pitch. "Please don't. Please come _with_ me..." Her hips ground again as their pace finally met, gasps and thrusts in flawless sync until he hummed a purr against her ear; a deep rumble that grew to a wild, wordless crescendo. After the long delay, his release was nearly strong enough to hurt, and hearing her whimpers of pleasure joining his own elated groans made it--impossibly--even more intense. 

She had no idea--none at _all_ \--of how sweet a treasure she was, or how deliciously rare a lover. From the soft curves and perfect breasts, the pouting fullness of her lips, the light, tickling brush of her hair and silken touch of her skin to the way her still-slick cunt squeezed in clamping pulses as his erection slowly faded... the thought of anyone so remarkable being treated as she had made him increasingly more certain that payment was due, and _soon_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepper gets quite a shock, but not nearly the kind that Loki almost ends up getting...


	8. We like Pepper. Pepper is good. (ch 8)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with Pepper.
> 
> (And god, this chapter was painful to write. My feels will never be the same again)
> 
> Bit of Tasertricks angst as well. Owww.
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of rape***

They could only lie together in dazzled shock afterwards, silently wrapped in each other's arms until he felt Darcy begin to shake above him. Softly, he could hear her low sobs, and instinctively held her closer, his long-fingered hands smoothing her chestnut curls. "Shh," he whispered. "You're safe now, remember? _Safe_."

Lifting her head with a smile that paired strangely with the tears soaking her cheeks, she made a sound that was almost a laugh. "But that's _why_ I'm crying," she said simply, as if this should make perfect sense to him. Cradling her head against his shoulder, the Trickster frowned in confusion as soon as she could no longer see his face. This was, he assumed, one of the many thing he didn't understand about human nature. Perhaps if there was time, Pepper could explain it to him.

Speaking of which, Loki groaned in a very non-sexual, deeply disappointed way. Their time was running out, and although he didn't regret a single moment of it... they had to move, and soon. With another gentle kiss, his fingertips holding her chin lightly and his mischievous green eyes suddenly serious, he broke the bad news. "We have to leave here--and quickly. Before someone comes searching. ...Given our recent contact, it's... conceivable, if not actually likely, that they might search here." He would have regretted dawdling so long, but couldn't bring himself to. Every stolen second had been worth it.

He sighed and squeezed her hand. "If I had my way, no one would protect you but me... but there is still a war coming. My plans haven't changed, and... that would leave you open to far too many risks. Besides," he reflected with simple honesty, "I know where your loyalties lie in the coming conflict. Either way, I want you safe, _and_ beyond his reach."

The sudden reality of fear cleared her head as she rummaged through her bureau drawers for fresh clothing while he re-donned his armor. They stood staring at each other from opposite sides of the room, looking like creatures from different worlds, which was exactly what they were.

"Have I ever told you," she grinned, "that you look _really_ good in leather?" He inclined his head graciously at the compliment, then grinned, eyeing her curves beneath the simple jeans and blouse, his fingertips tingling at the memory of her soft skin. Oh, how he wished there were more time...

**** **** **** ****

The drive to Stark Tower was silent and awkward, both of them alternately thinking of what had just passed with contentment, and of what lay ahead with concern.

That she would be showing up with _Loki_ of all people twisted her stomach in knots. There were a thousand possible outcomes racing through her mind, and none of them were particularly pleasant for anyone involved. She balked as they pulled into a parking spot along the side of the building. At least Stark himself wouldn't be there--that was one less thing to worry about, but it did very little to shorten the list. Gnawing her lip out of habit and dithering in uncertainty, she finally typed out a quick text:

**[To: Pepper:]  
I'm parked on the side of the bldg and it's kind of really, really urgent. I need your help in a big way, and I need you to not bring anyone, not even Happy. Please. And promise me no matter what you won't freak out until I've explained stuff, k? Please.**

Instead of a response, she shortly saw a familiar, strawberry-blonde figure in pajamas and a robe ducking out the side door, thankfully unaccompanied by anyone at all. Still, Loki was out of the car in a twinkling, his arm around the woman and a slender, silvery blade pressed to her throat. 

Groaning, Darcy got out with hands raised, a small black device clenched in one fist. "Loki." she said. "The knife--I mean, _really_?" He shot her an angry glance. Whether he needed these people or not, they were still his enemies until proven otherwise. 

"So... you bring me here to protect me, and then threaten _her_? Does that even make _sense_ to you?" She leveled the taser, pressing a button on the side to make it spark ominously. "Just drop the knife and stop being... Weird. Seriously. We're all friends here, and friends don't threaten each other with knives. Pepper is cool. We like Pepper. ...Please don't make me tase you."

"Not until she understands why you need protection," Loki growled; the blade actually hovered some distance away from the woman's skin, though the difference was negligible at that point.

"Yes," Darcy said soothingly, like someone talking to a large dog who'd suddenly started growling at a guest, "And we'll totally get to that, okay? _In_ side, and when no one's actually threatening anybody." Hesitantly Loki lowered the blade, and to absolutely no one's surprise, Pepper whirled and slapped him. 

Wryly, he rubbed his cheek and tucked the shining blade out of sight. "With apologies, Miss Potts," he muttered dryly, "It's hard to be certain who can be trusted and who cannot--though thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt; if you hadn't, your boyfriend and half of SHIELD would have descended upon us already."

The redhead snorted, pulling her robe tighter against the wind. "What makes you think I didn't?" 

With a small smile, his eyes traced to the other woman, huddling deeper into her leather coat as she stared up at the stars. "Because you trust her enough to trust me by extension. Otherwise, you'd have defended yourself just then--but you didn't. That tells me everything I need to know. Well, that and the sting on my cheek. Clearly you've been working out." He smiled, charming and surprisingly benign. "...Shall we continue this meeting indoors, as requested?"

Once they were safely inside the tower, warming themselves with coffee--a first for Loki, but one he found pleasant after adjusting to the bitterness--Pepper listened to Darcy with a mixture of confusion, dismay, and something that verged on disbelief. First she'd wanted to call Tony--which they'd both talked her out of--and then she merely sat shaking her head slowly.

"Look, Darcy... It's not that I don't believe you--"

"--but, you don't believe me."

She rubbed her face tiredly. "That isn't what I meant. But are you sure it was _Thor_? I mean... _our_ Thor?"

Clenching her teeth in frustration, Darcy made a bitter sound that could almost have been a laugh. "You think I maybe don't know who I've been fucking for the past few months!? Yeah, it was _him_ , Pepper."

She blushed and, staring at the woman's face carefully, found that she genuinely believed her. But still-- _Thor?_ "I'm sorry--I'm sorry. It's just really hard to... I mean, Thor--sweet, lovable, you know, kind of dim..."

"It's like he has two sides," Darcy said quietly, fidgeting with her cup. "Like there's this mask he wears to make everybody love him and trust him, and then there's this... other side. And it's... it's so..." The tears were falling now, and she couldn't stop them. She couldn't stop the shaking, until Loki rested his hand on her shoulder. 

"I'm loathe to ask this of you again," he began in a low tone, voice heavy with pain for her sake, "but we both knew it would be necessary. Please--show her what you showed me. And remember that you're safe, now. Remember that it's his shame to carry, no matter what you think of yourself at this moment."

Nodding silently, hating every step of the process, Darcy undid the buttons on her blouse with shaky hands, slipping it off and staring silently at the floor. Loki gave her limp hand a warm squeeze, but expected no response. Still, she held her head a fraction higher as she moved her hair aside, swiveling on the stool so that Pepper could see everything.

"This is _after_ I treated them," Loki said softly. "They were..." He swallowed hard, and cleared his throat, free hand clenching in anger. "They were still bleeding when I saw her--almost 24 hours later. There are older bruises underneath. There was at least one cracked rib that I'm certain of. Does he still seem sweet and lovable _now_?" His voice was almost clinical in its icy cynicism.

"Oh, my god," Pepper breathed softly. "Oh, Darcy..."

Clenching her teeth again, she bore the shock and pity with a surge of surprising rage. From a pocket she pulled out her cell phone, tossing it into Pepper's lap as she slipped back into her blouse, hands shaking too hard to do up the buttons. "His texts are on there. You know how he doesn't understand these 'strange devices?' Well, he works them just fine when no one's looking."

Loki silently helped her dress, wanting desperately to hold her, but knowing from the flash of anger in her blue eyes that it would be unwelcome just now. 

"He said if anyone found out--particularly Jane... He said he'd... He said..." She bit her lip, hard. "There was a long list of what he'd do if I ever told anyone." The fear was still there, and she wasn't sure if it would ever go away. "I tried to break it off, but..." _'But he bent me over the copier machine and raped me while all of you were only a few feet away, because I was too stupid to choose a room with a camera in it,'_ her mind whispered. And she couldn't bring herself to tell either of them that simple truth. Loki had guessed it, probably; Pepper likely hadn't so much as considered the idea yet. Even _she_ wasn't sure if it counted at as rape. She just remembered crying, and somehow making herself orgasm just to spite him; accidentally escaping the pain without even understanding how she did it, only that she _had_ to. As she'd done so many times before.

Without a word, she simply collapsed into tears, with no one and nothing to hold onto but the black-and-emerald apparition who had sworn to protect her. To keep her safe. But she'd been strong for Tony's partner, and now she just couldn't, anymore.

"There's more, isn't there?" Pepper sounded like she'd swallowed something bitter that might come back up. Still sitting with her arms around Loki's waist as if she were a drowning woman and he the only thing that kept her afloat, Darcy shut her eyes tightly and nodded, wishing the memories would go away, wishing it had happened only once, wishing Jane had killed the bastard the first time she'd hit him with her car.

"Oh, god." Pepper said again. 

"Please don't make me tell that part." She wasn't even sure who she was asking, but both of them answered. "Never," Loki swore. "Not ever, if you choose not to."

Miss Potts sounded like she was treading on thin ice and knew it, but had to all the same. "Can you write it out, Darcy? We... we need a statement. I'm going to put a file together--no photos of your face, no one has to know it was you--"

"--No," her curls were a beautiful mess around a face made fierce with tears and rage. "I _want_ them to know. Just because of what he said he'd do if I ever told anyone--I want _everyone_ to know."

Again, Loki felt that surge of pride in her. 

Pepper looked nearly as angry as Darcy herself as she stood. "Good. Because I'm going to make a file that will burn this two-faced bastard to the _ground_. ...I still can't believe..."

Loki broke in before she could go any further. "Think about what you know of him already: You know he has a temper. You know he can be cruel. You know how rarely he shows either where others can see--and you know that Tony doesn't seem to trust him quite like he does the others. Why is that, Miss Potts? I watch these things, I notice details, and thanks to Barton, I know virtually everything there is to know about Stark. He is far, far too smart not to unconsciously sense another covert abuser, is he not? After his father?

And he can take my brother in a fight; why else would I entrust her to his care?" He was, without realizing it, holding Darcy as if he'd never let her go. She in turn had clenched her hands around the strange lapels on his armor until the whites of her knuckles showed.

"He's done this before." Loki said softly, the harsh edges falling away from his tone as he felt the warmth of her small body against his. "A pretty little thing--I courted her, we all did, but none of us stood a chance against Asgard's favored son, of course. They were together for a few months when I first saw the bruises, and she told me everything. Great fool that I was, I took the matter to my... 'father,' and nothing was done. Two days later, she was dead. She'd either hanged herself or someone made it look as if she had." He swallowed hard, holding his lover closer. "There were still fresh bruises on her skin when they--when I--cut her down. I was the one who found her, you see. Because I had interfered.

Do _not_ make the same mistakes this time. Don't underestimate him. I am not the only monster ever spat out by Asgard's gleaming halls."

Pepper watched and listened. To her credit, she didn't cry, only nodded and stood, strangely businesslike for a woman still wearing her pajamas.

"I'll be back in my cage by morning," he said quietly, more to Darcy than to her, "And whatever else... will be as it is; I can't foretell the outcome, and I will do whatever I must do to win--make no mistake, none of this changes my plans. But swear to me that you'll take her somewhere safe--somewhere he can't reach her, or I'll do it myself, and--if I do, neither of us nor your precious cube will ever be found again. This is the only bargain I will ever make, with any of you."

His eyes tracked slowly back to Pepper's to be sure that she understood. There was a fierce determination in their green depths. "I want her safe, and I want _everyone_ to know the truth. Especially Jane; she's in as much danger as Darcy is."

Scowling, Pepper nodded, her emotions in conflict. "I swear, then--she'll be safe.. but if you're not backing down from the war, then I can't tell anyone, not even Tony, until after. He needs to keep his head in the game. You have your priorities, I have mine. So unless I absolutely have to... Keeping her out of Thor's reach is as much as I can do until all this is over."

He hesitated, looking down at the small, brown-haired figure in his arms.

"It will do," he said in quiet acceptance, kissing the top of her head one last time before letting her go.

"And--" she called in scowling confusion, "There's one thing I don't get. Why do this? You've killed... I don't even know how many people, and you're apparently about to kill even more, but you sit here and make this weird _deal_ for someone's safety? Are you... What, getting back at your brother for what he did to that other girl?"

The Trickster's face was oddly humorless. "Why do you all seem to think that everything I do is about _Thor_? That I am entirely incapable of any feeling beyond hatred of him?" His face was set in hard lines of anger as he shook his head quickly. "No." Eyes moving again to Darcy's, green on blue, the spite in his features slowly softened. "I do this because nothing so precious should be treated with so little disregard. And because... she trusted me."

He locked Darcy's face in his memory, knowing that he would never see her again, never feel her soft skin beneath his fingers or her lips against his. The knowledge came with a dull, icy pain, eased only by the reminder that, whatever else, she would be safe.

He vanished before either of them could speak another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, the confrontation...


	9. The confrontation, the war, and the battle (ch 9)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation, and Loki's return to his cage.
> 
> The war covered in brief, from different perspective, and finally Thor has a reason to be afraid.

Back on the helipad, he set to work finding his brother--using his considerable gifts of stealth and trickery to lurk around corners and move from point to point unseen as he listened in on the comm devices, finally pinpointing his location. Then he went to the lab--amusingly, the one place they _weren't_ currently looking for him--picked up his scepter, and went in search of Asgard's beloved prince.

He only had to kill two guards to reach him; an unfortunate necessity, but they stood between him and his goal. Finding the bulky figure alone, crouched to examine another fallen guard--he smiled like a hungry shark. "You've never been very good at tactics," he noted from behind.

Thor turned in confusion, and reached for his own comm device. With the gesture of a thin, long-fingered hand , the black box sputtered and died, the door behind them sealing, and a nearby camera exploding as anger spun his magic nearly out of control. Raising a single finger to his smiling lips, the Trickster lowered his head, fixing his brother with a look of venomous contempt as the smile slowly faded. "Astrid," he said, imbuing every syllable with cold malice.

The larger man feigned confusion--or maybe he honestly didn't remember her name--then laughed. "The woman _you_ drove to self-destruction, according to the All-Father. What has she to do with anything?" But there was a lurking, uneasy suspicion in his blue eyes, now.

" _Everything,_ " Loki growled. "Because we both know the truth, don't we, dear brother?" 

Thor's face twisted with rage. "I know that you envied us _so deeply_ \---"

The curved blade struck before he could finish the sentence, leaving a long gash down one cheek. Oh, how tempting it was to take that wretched mind, twist it to do his bidding, force him to hurt himself the same way he'd hurt _her_... But no. He wanted to leave him clear-headed for everything that was to come. Wanted no accusations that he'd acted against Darcy while under Loki's control.

Thor struck back, but the metallic handle blocked it. "I said _the truth_!" Loki roared, lights flickering and a nearby computer giving off a flash of sparks as his magic, amplified by the weapon in his hand and his own rage, once again spun dangerously beyond the limits of his control. " _You_ abused her, _you_ drove her out of her mind, and--tell me--did you drive her to death as well? Or did you simply break her neck and leave her there for me to find, as a warning not to tell the All-Father what you were doing with them? How many were there, Thor--can you even remember?"

He lowered his hammer, breathing heavily but not yet panting. "So all of this... Was about a _woman_?" He actually laughed as he said it. Loki took the opportunity to flip the scepter and hit him the the stomach as hard a he could, silencing the laughter and watching as Thor curled and gasped for breath.

Leaning over him, Loki smiled victoriously and licked his lips. "Oh, no. _All_ of this is about ruling a realm." He kicked him in the stomach before he could regain his breath; a hard thump into the relatively weak metal below the warrior's breastplate. " _That_ was about Astrid." He drew back for another kick as Thor's hand grasped at the ground, wheezing breath and scattered focus rendering him unable yet to call Mjolnir. "And _this_ ," he snarled as his boot connected with the curled figure's unguarded crotch, "is about _Darcy_."

The Thunderer's eyes widened in shock and pain, hands cupping the wound between his legs, hammer within his reach but still beyond his grasp. At the mention of her name, panic further drained the color from his face. "Safe from _you_ ," Loki sneered, but he'd dallied too long and the hammer now hummed in Thor's hand again, knocking him back before he could properly block and sending the scepter clattering away out of reach.

"What have you done with her?" His voice shook with rage, but Loki's lips only curled in a grin of absolute contempt. "Less than you've done, I'm told, but I favor quality over quantity. You see, I find the primary secret to a woman's heart is to simply _not beat and rape her_." 

His punch was only effective because it was unexpected, but it bought time for the Trickster to roll and recover his weapon, stabbing it fiercely into Thor's shoulder and pinning him in place.

" _Everything_ has been revealed now-- _everything_. By the time this battle is over, whatever the outcome," he twisted the blade and watched Thor struggle to free himself, "all your compatriots will know what you really are. No one will ever more trust that doltish, charming mask you wear, and best of all, best of _all_ ," he murmured, leaning in close enough that his breath was hot on his brother's face, "You will never. Ever. Touch her. Again."

The god managed to unpin himself, the wound aching until his head swam, just as the soldiers finished cutting open the door with a blowtorch, dragging Loki away as he tacitly let them, laughing like a madman even when the weapon was pulled from hands.

Shaken and bloodied, his crotch still aching dully, Thor watched his brother with genuine fear in his eyes.

He shook off the offers of aid, still staring after that retreating figure braced by guards as if he couldn't look away. 

"He was... ranting," he rumbled vaguely. "Even I could not decipher his meaning, but... Put him back in his cage. I'm sure Director Fury will want to speak with him..."

**** **** **** ****

During the following days, Loki did little but smile. Someone else brought his meals, now; Darcy Lewis was considered missing, pending investigation.

Every time he caught sight of that familiar silver breastplate and the scarlet trail that followed, the prisoner's smile broadened, emerald eyes twinkling with a merry glow that nothing seemed to dim.

Then came the battle, and oh, how badly he'd failed, though true to his word, he had fought with every intention of winning, even throwing into jeopardy the man he'd trusted to care for the woman he had gradually come to accept that he--in some way at least--loved. If he won the war, no one else would be needed for her defense, and oh, how close he'd come...

But even as he lay there crumpled on the floor of Stark Tower, in and out of consciousness as he remembered without regret giving the last of those precious healing herbs to the woman with the soft, soft brown curls, he dreamed of her. In his mind's eye, he could still see the initial hopelessness that dimmed her blue eyes, remember the sound of her laughter, the taste of her, the feel of her arms tightening around him in bliss. Even as he lay there with every bone broken, his body slowly and painfully knitting itself back together again, he remembered the light in her eyes slowly returning, her dogged insistence that _everyone_ should know who Thor's victim had been, and her sweet, final smile. He finally slept, the curl of his lips an echo of hers.

**** **** **** ****

On the plane back to the transport point, his smile still lingered. Perhaps he'd see her again someday, though there was little hope of that. Still, though, body aching from a thousand points, on his way to unknown years in an Asgardian prison, the Trickster's smirk was unstoppable.

"I lost the war," he rasped to the silver-armored, prodigal son of their home world, his voice still rough from the places where broken bones had punctured lungs, done incalculable other damage to his body, inside and out--all of it negligible to him now, "but I won the battle."

The muzzle was shoved into place hard enough to crack teeth, but muffled laughter could still be heard as the plane landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter: What happened after the schwarma.


	10. What happened after the shawarma (ch 10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final face-off, and Thor's true colors shown at last--to everyone.
> 
> Not gonna lie, this is my favorite chapter.

Stark waited until they'd finished eating. Shawarma, as it turned out, was far less appetizing than the pictures had made it look, but still--anything was worth trying at least once.

No one during the meal had spoken a word to Thor. Of course, Tony had met them all beforehand and debriefed everyone. They'd read the statements and medical reports, seen the photos, knew the truth. 

Natasha in particular had taken it hard--he could tell by the complete lack of emotion on her face except for the hard set of her jaw. Barton simply reached for his coat and bow--they'd had to talk him out of going after the thunder god himself. He'd always had a strange sort of friendship with Darcy, one built mainly on sarcastic banter and a mutual love of donuts, yes, but a friendship all the same. 

Banner had simply read as far as he could stand to, flipping through the medical charts and photos, then taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Do I get to beat this one around on the floor a little too?"

Tony clapped his hand on the scientist's broad shoulder, unable to repress the brief twitch of a smirk. "We're still patching up the Loki-shaped dent from last time, big guy, so, sadly... no."

Cap had simply sat in silence, jaw clenched much like Natasha's, staring down at one particularly bad photo of the marks on Darcy's back. His arms were folded across his chest. He said nothing at all, seemingly lost in thought, or maybe in memory. It was always hard to tell, with him.

Their mutual disbelief had given way to a shared sense of betrayal, followed by disappointment and anger, which is where they seemed to settle, each in his or her own way, and each for their own separate reasons. The anger lingered as they left the restaurant--just a feeling in the air that Thor alone seemed oblivious to. Of course, that had always been his thing, pretending he had no idea what was going on.

Walking ahead of him as they left, everyone else silently spreading out behind the red-caped figure as Tony simply tapped the button in his bracelet, letting the new, vastly upgraded suit enfolded him in metal, like nothing so much as a steel cocoon--a safe, second home. For a moment he remembered the look on Pepper's face as she'd handed him the file; somewhere between cold outrage and pained empathy. Then he turned to put himself directly in Thor's path, watching Barton nock an arrow as Natasha reached for her gun, Steve looking for all the world like he wanted to single-handedly knock the shiny, armored-and-caped bastard straight back to Asgard himself. That came as a surprise; he'd never really seen him look really _angry_ before, and it wasn't a pleasant sight. 

Looking down from above, any soldier would have recognized the formation. It was a killbox, and Thor was at the center of it. 

"We know about Darcy." Stark's voice was overlaid by the faint metallic echo of the suit, but still quite clear.

The brawny figure feigned innocence, even managing a brief, startled laugh, his brilliant smile turning to each of them, voice as warm and booming as ever. "My friends!" He laughed in disbelief, "Surely you've not been taken in by another of Loki's tricks? We _fought_ together, all of us! Have I not proven myself trustworthy and honorable--"

He stopped as a small, dark-haired woman emerged from the rubble, Pepper right behind her, and Tony directly between Thor and the girl.

"How about just canning the crap, asshole." Darcy said, blue eyes narrowed in loathing. " _I_ told them. Sure, Loki's story's in there too, but that's--what do they call it in court?"

"Corroborating testimony," Tony supplied. Arms folded over her chest, Darcy nodded. 

"'Master'", she snorted derisively, turning her back on him and kicking a chunk of cement out of her way. "Complete and utter _bullshit_. Maybe that's how they get down in kiss-my-Ass-gard, but you come near me again? I'll tase you until your fucking brains fry." Small white teeth bared in anger, she stepped back to let the others take over. She'd said all she needed to, anyway.

"Pretty much everyone here wants a piece of you right now, Blondie." The familiar snark in Tony's voice could never be mistaken for friendly humor. "Hell, I think Cap wants to take you down a dark alley and beat the Asgardian shit out of you right now, and he's the _polite_ one."

"Well, you're not wrong," Steve said, shield braced at one side while his hand clenched tightly at the other. "Where I come from, a man doesn't hit a lady--and you did a hell of a lot worse than just hit."

Thor's grip tightened on the handle of his hammer as he looked around at them, harmless smile replaced with a look of malicious cunning. Loki, he thought, would have known how to escape from this, but he had always been the clever one. He himself had only strength to rely on--and it wasn't enough.

There was a click and a whir as the phasers on Tony's suit fired up, one arm lifting to cast a dim blue glow on Thor's rough features. "So here's the deal. Darcy's under _my_ protection now--"

"--No," Natasha said; the first time she'd spoken all day, from the moment that file had been placed in her hands. "She's under _our_ protection." A lifting of weapons signified mutual agreement, and behind the faceplate, Tony smiled.

"Even better--so, you take yourself, your little brother, your whole three-ring circus off our happy little world, and you don't come back, ever." There was a pause, and the slits in his faceplate actually seemed to narrow. "Unless you want to be messy about it, and yaknow, I don't think even _you_ can handle the whole team. You can probably guess why Banner's not here right now, but that doesn't mean he's not with us." He powered down the weapons and waited. "What's your call, Goldilocks?"

Behind the red-and-gold figure before him, his narrowed eyes and cunning gaze--a look all too familiar to Darcy--spotted a third woman between the other two, her arms around the smaller one's shoulders and brown eyes fixed on him in horror and disgust. _Jane_.

He loosened the grip on the hammer, the cruel, angry look draining slowly from his face in defeat.

"We leave tomorrow morning," he said quietly, turning on his heels to walk away, shoulders low and head no longer lifted in carefree arrogance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've all enjoyed this one! Thank you for reading it, and thank you hugely for the kudos. My inbox is always open for story ideas and suggestions, of course! :)


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